Why is this night different from all other nights?

Why, on this night, do we go to the Segals’, when on all other nights we cancel last-minute because we don’t really like them?

Why is it that, on all other nights, we dine while sitting in actual chairs but on this night I’m sharing a piano bench with Josh?

Why doesn’t Twitter just delete the accounts of all the neo-Nazis?

Why do the Segals refuse to invest in some folding chairs, when we have this same seating problem, on this night, every year?

Why, on this night, does Josh pretend that he doesn’t know how to read the questions, when on all other nights, including last Passover, he could? Is it because last year, when he pronounced the “H” while sounding out “herb,” all the adults whipped around to shout “erb!” in correction? Is this the bitterness that the herbs are supposed to be reminding us of?

Why do we pretend to search for the afikomen, when we know it’s always hidden between books on the bookshelf, or between the books on the coffee table, or between those books that are usually stacked on this clearly underutilized piano bench but are now just kind of piled against the wall? Where else can you successfully hide a piece of brittle, perforated cracker?

Why is it that my phone, when I only said the words “Arco lamp” out loud once three weeks ago, knows to advertise mid-century-modern lamps to me on Facebook, but no one can seem to figure out how to delete the Nazis?

Why is it that we can’t make matzo thick enough to not crumble when you try to spread cream cheese on it? I know the bread of affliction is unleavened because we’re supposed to be remembering the time constraints our people were under as they fled Egypt, but would it not be more in the spirit of Judaism to honor our ancestors with matzo that’s sturdy enough to withstand the force of a schmear?

When the neo-Nazis are on social media, do they see ads for tiki torches? Do these ads yield enough revenue to justify, on all other nights, continuing to provide them with a free platform for hate speech?

Does anyone else think that, if Josh isn’t going to recite the questions, he should scooch over so that I don’t have to talk about how we’re all “reclining” when, in reality, I only have one butt cheek on this piano bench?

Why is it that, on this night, we have four cups of wine, when I feel like I need so many more?

Whoa, whoa, whoa—we can get back to “Dayenu”-ing in a second—did you know that Twitter, in twelve years of business, just had its first profitable quarter? And that it only made ninety-one million dollars? You can’t even make a Marvel movie for ninety-one million dollars, unless you want to make Ben Affleck’s “Daredevil.” Is that what this has all been for, Twitter? We’ve been subjected to the spread of Nazi vitriol and the collapse of truth as we know it, all for the price of Ben Affleck’s “Daredevil”?

Are we all going to get ads for piano benches now?